


A Very Team Free Will Christmas

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Betaed, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas in the Bunker, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Pie, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean said to not buy him any gifts this Christmas, but it's Castiel's first Christmas in the Bunker and he really wants to give Dean something. Turning to Sam for help, Castiel learns how to bake the perfect gift for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Team Free Will Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingmuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingmuffin/gifts).



“Hey, I don’t want anyone buying me anything. I just want us to have a nice, quiet holiday here. Y’know, quiet: no hunting, no dying. Mebbie some food…”

“But you don’t want any gifts for yourself?”

“Nope.”

Sam turned to Castiel, shrugging, and the angel frowned. They’d managed to get Dean to agree to them putting some decorations up in the Bunker, and Sam was going to take Cas to the nearest Walmart, over in Concordia, so they could pick some out, but Cas really, _really_ wanted to give Dean a gift. And Sam too, but Sam had already said he was happy to receive a gift from Cas.

Taking a sip of black coffee, Cas glanced sideways at Dean. The older Winchester paid him no heed, nose buried in a newspaper out of habit, plaid covered shoulders tense. _If Dean doesn’t want anything for Christmas, but doesn’t want to go on any hunts and just be here… Why is Dean taking Christmas off?_ Castiel wondered.

“Cas? You ready?” Sam asked, stood beside the doorway--he had changed into a warm jacket pulled over an old sweater and wore his usual jeans and boots. He was a complete contrast to Castiel’s neatly ironed suit and shirt.

Peeking into his mug, Cas found that he had drunk all of his coffee. It wasn’t that he needed the caffeine, but he found it less awkward to be sat around the Winchesters when he indulged in these human things. The liquid actually tasted foul to his palette, his grace induced awareness of his vessel’s senses skewering the flavor. But Dean and Sam were both less nervous around him when he at least played a little at being human.

“Are you ready?” Sam repeated.

“Yes, sorry.” Cas stood up, pulling on his trench coat. He took his coffee mug over to the kitchen sink and left it there. “See you later, Dean.”

Dean held up his coffee mug in farewell, still looking at the newspaper.

Cas followed Sam out of the kitchen and they went towards the garage. The seraph observed Sam rubbing his hands together as he walked.

“Sam are you gleeful, plotting or-”

“I’m cold Cas. Just cold.”

They reached the garage and Sam started rubbing his hands together even harder. Cas saw misted breaths rising up in front of Sam’s face. Letting his grace pull back a little, Cas felt the garage’s ambient temperature and realized that it was indeed cold.

“We do not have to go out and buy ornaments if it is too cold,” said Cas, following Sam over to an old SUV, which he found to be unusual. There was a roofrack on the top of the vehicle.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Why are we not taking Dean’s car?”

“Gonna pick out a tree and tie it to the roof. Dean’s not gonna want Baby’s paint work getting all scratched up.”

Sam opened up the SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat. Castiel went round to the passenger side and climbed in beside Sam, a frown creasing his forehead. Trying desperately to recall what Jimmy had experienced of this time of year, it dawned on Castiel what Sam meant.

“You mean we are going to buy a Pinus sylvestris. That we will walk out into a collection of small conifers, decide on one based on superficial merits bar, of course, that it looks like it will survive the festive period. Drive this tree home and drag it inside the Bunker and then discard it after Christmas. For the sake of holiday decor, yes?”

Sam turned the keys in the ignition and looked over at Cas, giving the seraph a strained smile. “Uh, yeah, Cas that’s kinda what I mean.”

Driving out of the garage, Castiel looked out of his window and observed the changed landscape. Where dry ground and dormant trees, all browns and greys had been--mixed with the ever optimistic green of pine--there was now an inch of crisp white snow covering the Bunker’s exterior and the town of Lebanon.

The passing of seasons was something that Castiel had had little chance to observe with so much going on in their lives. _I wonder how much we miss?_ Castiel pondered.

Steering the car extra careful until they reached a road that had been salted, Sam absently fiddled with the radio and put on a blues and rock station. The song that came out of the speakers in the doors was not one that Castiel recognized, but Sam was tapping his hands away on the steering wheel and happily humming along.

“Lord, I was born a ramblin' man. Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can…” Sung a man over the speakers, the volume not too loud as to stop conversation.

Castiel looked over to Sam. “How long until we reach the Walmart?”

“About an hour or so.”

“I wish to buy Dean a Christmas gift,” Castiel blurted out.

“He said he didn’t want anything.” Sam continued to keep his eyes on the road.

“But…” Cas attempted to bring together the reasons why he wanted to do so. This was his first Christmas in the Bunker. He had never given Dean a Christmas gift before and wanted to try the process out.

A sympathetic look stole over Sam’s face and he chanced a glance at the seraph. “Look, maybe you can get Dean a little something.” He turned his eyes back to the road.

“But why does Dean not want Christmas gifts?” Castiel had seen many humans over the centuries giving and receiving items at this time of year. He understood the origins as much as an angel can, from a distant inexperienced perspective. Distant memories of the Novaks’ Christmases together still had a home in his thoughts, but he could not recall the emotions that had been behind those events.

The song changed and Sam started to tap his fingers to the new rhythm, lips pursed as he thought.

A woman’s voiced filled Sam’s silence. “Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train. And I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans…”

“I suppose,” Sam finally started, shifting in his seat, “it’s because, growing up, we didn’t really get to celebrate Christmas. He’d tried to buy me presents and I would find things for him when I was old enough to worry about his feelings. But…” Castiel watched Sam out a hand through his hair to clear it away from his face.

The pause lengthened.

“But?”

Sam let out a long breath. “But he doesn’t really have any great memories of the season. I mean, think about it, the last Christmas he probably celebrated was with Lisa and Ben. And they don’t even remember it.

“The shit’s been hitting the fan pretty consistently for us these past ten years. We sort of did something when we took care of this anti-Claus before Dean was dragged off to Hell… Yeah, this season doesn’t have many good memories for him.”

“What about you?”

“What, me? Well, um, there was maybe one Christmas as a kid that wasn’t too bad. I, um, got to spend Christmas with Jess and her family once. That was nice,” Sam replied, in a slightly strained voice.

Considering all Sam had said, Castiel sat thoughtfully in silence for several minutes.

A different song came on and filled the gap in their conversation. “I'm travelin' down the road and I'm flirtin' with disaster. I've got the pedal to the floor, my life is running faster...”

Castiel drew himself up in his seat and spoke over the song, “The two of you deserve to have a good Christmas. I am unsure of all of the traditions and rituals involved, but at the very least, you shall have gifts from me.”

Suddenly the confidence with which he had begun to speak is gone. Castiel is still unsure what he would give Dean. _He would not react well to extravagance, I am sure of this._

“What should I get Dean? I believe he will not react positively to a lavish gift.”

“You want to do this?”

Castiel nodded.

“Hmm, okay… There is thr-,” Sam peered over at Castiel and the seraph did not quite understand the look in the younger Winchester’s eyes, “um… two things Dean adores above all else. One is his car and the other is apple pie.” Sam turned back to look at the road.

“Is there a way that I might combine these into a gift?”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Don't try and turn my head away, ba ba ba yeah. Flirtin' with disaster every day…” The song finished and a commercial break started.

“Y’know, maybe there is.”

***

  
The Bunker looked far more festive after their shopping trip to “the” Walmart. Sam and Castiel put up the decorations and ornaments after Dean had directed them in setting up the tree in a corner of the war room. The tree was actually taller than Sam.

A day after their shopping trip, with time to buy gifts running out, Sam and Castiel were looking for a special something on Etsy while Dean worked on Baby in the garage. Crowded around Sam’s laptop, they scrolled through several pages of cookie cutters. And then they saw it. There was no mistaking its iconic lines and shape contained within the black plastic of the cutter. _That’s the one!_

Castiel eagerly pointed at the cutter on the screen. “Sam, click on that one.”

“Alright,” Sam clicked on the preview photo and loaded up the cutter’s listing, “okay, well that’s just what we need for the pie. I’ll pay for it, okay, it’s only gonna be $10 including shipping to our PO box.”

“Thank you.” Castiel read the description more. “What does it mean it’s 3D printed?”

“Uh, the people running the store must have access to a 3D printer. It’s a type of printer that prints objects rather than printing ink onto paper. 3D printers tend to only print in types of plastic.”

“Interesting... When will we bake the apple pie?”

“Christmas morning? It would be good to bake it fresh, before Dean wakes up.”

Watching Sam order the cutter, Castiel realized he had no idea how to bake a pie. They had found a recipe that seemed just right, but Castiel knew that it would take both him and Sam--and a whole load of luck--to pull off baking the pie into something edible. _But maybe..._

“Sam, we should practice baking the pie before Christmas morning.” _I want this pie to be perfect, I don’t want to to fail Dean again._

The younger Winchester sighed. “You’re right… but we’ll have to be discreet.”

“Hey, what are you two up to?” Dean stood under the archway to the rest of the Bunker, cold bottle of beer grasped in an oily right hand, a frown on his face while he looked to Castiel and Sam.

Sam slowly closed his laptop and Castiel tried to retain an impassive expression on his face.

“Just seeing if there were any easy cases nearby, but there’s nothing,” Sam replied in a steady voice. It was partly true. They had looked for cases before looking for the cutter and nothing had stood out to them.

“Huh, okay. Well, if you’re both done, I could do with some help. Damn garage entrance is snowed up and I can’t get the car out.”

Dean didn’t suspect a thing.

***

The week running up to Christmas Day, Sam helped Castiel practice the apple pie recipe twice in anticipation of Christmas morning. Each time they planned for a practice bake, Sam found a piece of their arsenal or spell supplies they needed restocked and sent Dean off to get more. They didn’t use chicken beaks very often but it was handy to always have a supply and they were definitely were running low on silver bullets.

Dean would ask if either of them wanted to join him for the ride, but they always had a reason prepared for why they couldn’t go. Sam would explain he was researching something for another hunter and Castiel would excuse himself by saying he was tracking Metadouche. There’d be an eyeroll before each trip, but Dean accepted their excuses and headed off each time.

“Why does it smell like a bakery in here?” Dean asked, having just returned from his second supply run. He’d picked up the silver they needed to melt down into more bullets, and was stood in the kitchen and fixing himself up a fresh cup of coffee. The temperature already quickly dropping outside as night descended.

“It does?” Castiel replied, hiding the bottle of Febreeze Sam had given him just before Dean returned. Sam had moved the pie to his room. Trying not to give up what was going on, Castiel kept his face as neutral as he could manage. _I want this to be a surprise_ , Castiel kept telling himself.

Sniffing the air, Dean nodded. “You telling me you can’t smell that, with that angel nose of yours?”

Of course Dean would never assume that Castiel knew how to boil an egg, let alone bake a pie. Equally, he wouldn’t think Sam capable of such a thing.

“I do not smell anything out of the ordinary.” Castiel went and stood in front of the oven, trying to keep Dean away from its residual heat.

“Huh, okay. Must be my imagination…”

Salt lines appeared in the kitchen later that evening. The second, far more successful pie lived out its short life in Sam’s bedroom, devoured during two episodes of _House of Cards._

  
***

  
Christmas morning arrived. Under their tree were three gifts of different sizes, wrapped in festive paper and sealed with varying amounts of colorful ribbon. The Bunker remained quiet until Castiel walked up to Sam’s room and knocked lightly on it.

“Sam? Sam are you awake?” Castiel called through the door. Like always, Castiel had spent the night not sleeping.

Listening through the door, Castiel heard Sam moving around and eventually the younger Winchester emerged.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” said Sam sleepily, a goofy grin on his face, already dressed.

“Merry Christmas to you, Sam… Can we bake the thing?”

“Sure, meet me in the kitchen.” Sam closed his bedroom door and headed towards the bathrooms. Castiel walked in the opposite direction.

Walking past Dean’s room, Castiel stopped and listened through the door for a moment. He could hear Dean lightly snoring. Sure that they would not be disturbed before they were ready to reveal their hard work, Castiel continued on.

Reaching the kitchen, Castiel stood in the middle and mentally ticked off the things that he needed to begin, first turning the oven on to heat to 400F. Carefully, Castiel pulled out of the cupboards and the refrigerator all the things that they had hidden away from Dean in places he rarely looked. On one counter he put out everything for the pie crust and on the other everything they needed for the filling.

“Is the oven on?” Sam asked yawning and heading over to the coffee maker to get some coffee brewing.

“Yes, it is warming up to the required temperature.”

Sam nodded and then watched Castiel begin to work. First Castiel sorted out the pie crust. Tongue stuck out, he measured out his dry ingredients, adding them to a bowl; then cut in cold butter, before making a well in the center and adding some water. Hands cold, Castiel began to press the dry ingredients into the center, so that the water was slowly absorbed.

Once all the water was gone, hands still cold, he kneaded the dough until it was barely smooth. Castiel worked slowly and surely, knowing that rushing would not help him, doing his best to make sure the butter did not melt. The second pie had been almost perfect, but Castiel was sure he’d get it right this time.

Making eight balls out of the dough, Castiel wrapped them in plastic wrap and put them in the refrigerator. Sam got up and fixed them both cups of coffee, putting one down by Castiel’s work station.

“Thank you… we’ll be finished before Dean wants to use the kitchen, right?” Castiel took a sip of his coffee, leaving floury handprints over the mug. Pulling a bag of apples towards him, Castiel began to get ready to make the filling.

“Yeah, we’ll be done before Dean’s ready to do that rib roast he was planning.” Sam started to roll out the bottom crust on a flour covered counter top.

Washing, coring, peeling and slicing the apples, Castiel tried to focus on making the pie filling. But he was still concerned that he would annoy Dean with this folly. Castiel knew it was silly to worry, because if anyone were heading out to their local store, Dean would ask for pie. _How is this any different?_ The scent of fresh apples, cinnamon and nutmeg hung thickly in the air as Castiel began to mix the filling together.

Once the top crust was over the filling, with a hole to let out the steam, Castiel rolled out one last ball of the crust on the flour covered counter. Picking up the cutter shaped liked an Impala, dusting it with more flour, Castiel carefully pressed the cutter into the crust and cut out four Impalas. Taking some of the egg wash, Castiel brushed the non-detailed side of each Impala with the egg and then gently stuck it to the top crust. The last touch was brushing the whole of the crust with the egg wash.

Castiel looked upon his creation and smiled. The pie was certainly the best looking he had made that week.

“That looks great, Cas. He’s gonna love it.” Sam slapped Castiel on the shoulder and then helped the seraph put the pie in the oven.

Dean would be awake by the time it had baked.

***

  
“Something smells good,” Dean mumbled as he walked into the kitchen. He was still half asleep and wrapped in his grey Men of Letters robe. “There coffee on?”

“Yep.” Sam remained seated at the table, nonchalantly looking at something on his laptop. Beside him were the presents that had been under the tree.

Castiel got up from where he had been sat and reading a newspaper. “I’ll get you a cup.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Cas.” Dean sat down at the table and Castiel brought him a fresh cup of black coffee.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” said Sam.

“Merry,” Dean yawned, “Christmas, Sam. And,” Dean yawned again, “Merry Christmas to you too, Cas.”

Dean sat with the coffee steaming in his face. The pie was waiting on the counter, a red bow tied around its plate. Castiel looked between Dean and the pie. Sooner rather than later the older Winchester was going to wake up enough to realize he could smell an apple pie. _I should just get this over and done with._

“Dean?” Castiel hovered in front of the pie, hiding it from view.

Twisting in his seat, Dean looked up to Castiel. “That’s my name…”

“Would you close your eyes, please?”

A frown creased Dean’s brow, but he complied, oblivious to what was going on in his sleepy state. Picking up the plate, Castiel slowly walked from the counter to the table and eased the plate onto the table in front of Dean.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Twisting back in his seat, it took Dean a moment to look down at the table and comprehend that a freshly baked pie was sat on the table in front of him. Castiel could see Dean’s brain waking up and comprehension dawning on his face.

“Where’d this apple pie come from?”

“I baked it, for you, with Sam’s help. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

A pout formed on Dean’s lips and he looked up to Castiel, eyes slightly wet. “I thought I said don’t buy me any Christmas gifts.”

“I didn’t buy this, I made this.”

Sam got up and placed a small bundle of paper beside Dean. “This is from me. I did buy it.”

“Saaaaaam…” Dean moaned. The older Winchester looked between Sam and Castiel.

Dean’s eyes fell back on the pie. “It smells so good… And there’s little Chevy Impalas on the crust… Cas, this is…” He looked up to Castiel. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Shaking hands reached out and picked up the wrapped gift and pulled the ribbon and paper away. Inside was a set of apple pie scented car fresheners.

“I’m not saying Baby smells, but uh, yeah.” Sam awkwardly put his hand through his hair.

“Thanks man.” Dean smiled at Sam.

 _He isn’t angry,_ Castiel happily observed. _Dean is perhaps a little overwhelmed, but he is not angry._

“Good to know that there’s no pie obsessed ghost running around. I’ll clean up that salt later.”

Sam laughed. “Right, yeah, those two times I sent you out to-”

“You guys were practicing how to bake this fine smelling pie. I appreciate the dedication guys.” Dean sniffed.

Looking to the younger Winchester, Castiel grinned. “Sam would you like to open yours?” Castiel pointed to the larger of the remaining items on the table.

“Sure. You can open yours too.”

Castiel and Sam picked up their gifts at the same time. The seraph had no idea what was within the paper. It was thin and box-like, light and bigger than both of his hands. He pulled at the ribbon and it unravelled, the paper falling away too. Under the paper, a latched wooden box greeted him.

“Sam?” Cas looked to the younger Winchester, who had just finished unwrapping his new reading lamp, with reversed protective runes stuck onto the shade so that it would create protective shadows when lit.

“Thanks for this Cas, this is pretty neat.”

“Sam, what’s in the box?”

A small smile formed on Sam’s lips. “You probably don’t need it, but Dean and I discussed a while back that it was time that you had your own… and, I thought you could use this one… Open the box.”

Hesitant fingers flipped the box’s catches and pulled the lid up. Nestled in contoured sponge within was a TV remote.

“I set-up a TV and bed for you in one of the unused bedrooms. I didn’t get you your own Netflix, but you’ll still be able to use my account.”

“Thank you.” Castiel looked down at the remote, stunned.

Dean leaned forward and slapped Castiel on his back. “I’ll bring in my DVD player later, and we can all watch Die Hard and Die Hard 2 in your room and eat this fantastic smelling pie. Sammy, you can bring the beers.”

And they did just that during the afternoon, after filling up on rib roast, marking Castiel’s first Christmas in the Bunker as only the Winchesters knew how.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fic for Dancingmuffin who asked me before Christmas for a super Christmassy fic involving Dean not wanting any presents, and Cas working with Sam to bake him a pie that had Impalas on the crust.
> 
> Thanks to my beta [Zeryx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx/pseuds/Zeryx) for checking this work for me and letting me in on how to make the best pie crust.
> 
>  
> 
> [Find this fic on Tumblr here.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/135716900625/a-very-team-free-will-christmas)


End file.
